


the kaleidoscope claims another

by seadeepy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur POV, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Episode: s01e04 The Poisoned Chalice, I'm not sure Arthur's allowed to have any thoughts in his head, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Relationship, is it even legal to put those two tags back to back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26628478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seadeepy/pseuds/seadeepy
Summary: Arthur has a lot of alone time on his ride to retrieve the mortaeus flower. He realizes he might be more attached to Merlin than he'd like to admit.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 112





	the kaleidoscope claims another

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Life in Color" by OneRepublic.

Arthur Pendragon is alone. That is unusual in itself, when he's been surrounded and protected — even coddled, at times — by knights and servants and nobles for his entire life. Even the simplest of hunting trips normally requires a manservant to shadow his footsteps — but that's why he's here, isn't it?

It gives him time to think. Not Arthur's favorite activity, but there are miles of forest and mountains to be crossed before he reaches his goal, and not a single other person to talk to. To his surprise, he's already found himself several times on this journey turning in the saddle, expecting a gangly boy with dark hair to be a few paces behind him. Already this silence sounds strange without the rambling chatter Arthur claims to find so irritating. And maybe that's the very heart of the problem.

Merlin confuses Arthur. Merlin annoys him and frustrates him and infuriates him, and yet Arthur could not deny the sickening lurch in his stomach a few days earlier when he watched the idiot crumple to the floor, clutching at his throat. Arthur knew the arguments that might work on his father — not that they had, but he'd tried anyway. Insisted that Merlin had saved his life, was a useful and loyal person to keep in the royal household. Arguments about Merlin's value, like he was a sheaf of grain or a particularly sturdy cloak. Those are what Arthur said aloud, but in his quieter moments — now that he is alone with no distractions to cover the truth — Arthur has to admit to himself that there is more. That Merlin means more than that.

Arthur growls aloud, hands tightening on the reins. His horse's ears prick up, swiveling backward. But there’s nobody else around to witness his moment of emotion. No Sir Leon to fuss or Sir Geraint to joke about it. No Merlin to poke and pry, as he has already taken to doing. From the moment Arthur met him, Merlin has cheerfully trampled over every barrier of propriety and social standing in order to rattle Arthur. To insult and upset him, and somehow leave him feeling better in the process. And Arthur can’t stand the idea that these past few weeks might be all he gets of that lunacy. Can’t discard Merlin the way Uther wants him to. Can’t forget those lively blue eyes and insolent smirk so quickly. Can’t let his last sight of Merlin be a skinny body tangled under the covers of the cot in Gaius’ chambers, fever-drenched and wracked with pain. Arthur shudders at the memory.

Merlin drank from that chalice willingly, determination hardening his boyish face into something much older and wiser. Made a public spectacle of himself, again, to save Arthur’s life, again. And isn’t it Arthur’s duty to repay such bravery with a little of his own? How could he do any less?

Arthur nudges his horse with his heels, picking up the pace slightly. He’s not sure he likes this whole being alone business. Or the thinking thing.

* * *

There is so much that Arthur doesn’t understand. The dark-haired woman, face twisted with malicious glee as she incants. The spiders scuttling up the wall with eerie synchronicity, their pace never varying. The shimmering orb of soft blue light that rises like the moon towards its zenith, hopeful and inexorable.

Arthur does not, cannot understand the faith he finds in that light, not after a lifetime of warnings about the perils of sorcery. Uther has hissed about its seductive nature, the evil behind its alluring façade. Arthur can glimpse such evil in the woman’s pale eyes and cold sneer, her betrayal already echoed in years of Arthur’s bedtime stories. But the light, swirling and pulsing and tugging him along with gentle persuasion?

Magical it must be, yet Arthur climbs after it nevertheless, fingers trembling and straining, skin streaked with sweat and dirt, lungs heaving. Because the blue light is leading him back to Merlin, and more terrifying than the army of ravenous spiders is this discovery: for Merlin’s life, Arthur would give himself over completely to any power, earthly or otherwise.

Arthur emerges gasping into the cool night air, the blue orb escaping toward the sky. As it leaves him, his chest aches with the same loneliness that’s plagued him this whole journey, at once newfound and familiar. It’s stupid, but somehow the light reminded him of Merlin. Bizarre and unexpected in its companionship, materializing suddenly in the face of danger. Hovering nearby, faithful and enduring in ways he is only beginning to comprehend.

There is so much that Arthur doesn’t understand, but he thinks he is starting to.

* * *

Arthur begs. Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, stands face to face with his father in the dungeons and begs for Merlin’s life. Prison he accepts — the humiliation of the stocks, even.

 _I don’t care,_ he says, offering himself to his father for punishment, a nauseating desperation clutched alongside the flower in his fist. _Just make sure it gets to him._

Arthur has fought his father before, with stiff sentences in the throne room and harsh words shouted later, behind closed doors. He’s raged and snapped and even come to the edge of tears, though of course it’s been years since he’s given in to such weakness. But in the moment Uther crushes the mortaeus flower in his gloved hand, for the first time in his life, Arthur hates his father.

It’s a shocking feeling, the hatred. An icy flood of it crashing through Arthur’s abdomen, mingled with despair and terror. Not for himself, but for Merlin, who must have only hours left to live. As Uther strides out of the dungeons and the cell door slams shut, Arthur rushes to the bars. Flings himself to the floor, reaching, straining his fingers until they spasm and cramp.

 _Merlin_ , he thinks to himself. Almost says the name out loud in his panic.

By the time Guinevere arrives, Arthur has retrieved the crumpled flower and lapsed into misery in the corner of his cell. Even as the loneliness in his chest threatens to collapse inward into something much worse, some gaping emptiness he may never recover from, he keeps his shoulders straight and his gaze steady. He is the prince, and he is a Pendragon, and he will not allow himself the luxury of dissolving into hysteria like some _girl_.

If Merlin dies, it will be his fault. The thought echoes in Arthur’s head, over and over, even as another part of him tries to marshal these unruly thoughts and impulses. Tries to find the cold resolve that his father possesses in such abundance. Tries to accept the sacrifice Merlin has made for him, and look to the future.

It doesn’t work. As the past few days have already demonstrated, Arthur simply can’t stop thinking of a servant who’s supposed to mean almost nothing to him — can’t stop picturing clumsy feet, knobby elbows and ears too big for the face they frame. A grin to match those ears, brilliant and genuine and edged with just enough wicked mischief to keep Arthur guessing.

Arthur can’t give Merlin up so easily, not when it feels like their story has only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> Still very new to the world of writing fanfic, so please be kind! Comments & kudos are loved and appreciated <3
> 
> Also, this was definitely the episode where *I* truly despised Uther for the first time. I'd like to think that even Arthur realized how fucked up his dad's priorities were here.


End file.
